


Berries

by Teland



Category: The X-Files
Genre: I'm Sure This Made Sense To Me At Some Point, M/M, One for the road, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-03-01
Updated: 2000-03-01
Packaged: 2020-12-14 08:37:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21012896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teland/pseuds/Teland
Summary: One more time.





	Berries

**Author's Note:**

> ACKNOWLEDGMENTS: To Chelle for encouragement, help,  
audiencing, and much-needed moral support.

Somehow, he'd never though it would be quite like this.  
The war came and the war remained, but most people  
still had no idea that anything worth noting was going  
on. There should have been landings, declarations of  
intent, accidents too large to lie about.

But then it had never been that sort of war, had it?  
The rancher doesn't *tell* the cattle their fates, so why  
should the aliens?

'To make my life easier,' was the first thought in  
Mulder's mind. It felt right, even if it wasn't. What he  
*really* wanted was a people to lead. He could wallow  
in their outraged respect for him and grow strong  
again. Strong enough to mean it when he fought.  
Sometimes when he dreamed about his armies of the  
secularly righteous they would even win.

Instead, the shadow war remained in the shadows  
and Mulder was growing tired. Allies lost, allies  
gained... it never stopped being a war of attrition.

Scully had once accused him of wearing his pain  
like a medal.

Mulder often wished he could go back in time just  
to agree with her, show her his frustrated  
dreams for once without blame, but it was much  
too late for that, and too dangerous by half. They all  
had their armor on now, after all. Mulder's own was  
already far too tattered, and it was oddly soothing to  
believe that his old, quiet half-truths might be a part  
of Scully's own.

As to the rest, the strokes Mulder would later use to  
clean the glorified icepick were not much different  
than the ones he was using on Krycek now. He wasn't  
afraid of his compensation issues, and at this point  
he didn't really care what they meant.

All that mattered was the old, old scent of leather  
against the grey in the other man's hair and the  
humid reek of another alley. The hybrid had only had  
time to squeeze the trigger once, but Mulder supposed  
that had been more than enough.

Chest-to-chest with Krycek and he could feel his own  
clothes soaking through and he could taste the other  
man's blood in his mouth. Dark, unfinished taste like  
berries that should still have been on the vine.

He couldn't stop kissing him.

And Krycek was laughing, a horrible, bubbling noise  
that was somehow still completely *him* in a way  
that the rest of this sordid little back alley tragedy  
could never be. The sound made Mulder's skin crawl but  
he accepted it with the rest.

"You... you're a sick fuck, Mulder..." Most of the words  
came out sounding gargled as well as pained but  
Mulder could still understand.

And yes, he could accept that, too. Here he was,  
attempting to jerk off the man he could never figure  
out whether he loved or just needed as a punishment  
with a pulse -- while said man bled out all over the both  
of them.

He wished he could laugh, too.

That didn't matter, either.

"I love you."

It made Krycek snap his head away from Mulder's,  
banging it on the wall behind him in a move he didn't  
seem to feel. Mulder watched intently as the other man  
struggled to focus, felt something warm and painful  
settle in his belly as green eyes finally locked on his  
own.

"Sure you do, just..." Messy, coughing gurgle followed  
by a vampire's grin. "Just make sure I die on my feet."

And suddenly Mulder *could* laugh, had to laugh,  
and he pulled Krycek's head down against his throat  
so the other man could feel it.

And Mulder held on tight.

End.


End file.
